


Veteris vestigia flammae

by flecksofpoppy



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-18
Updated: 2011-04-18
Packaged: 2017-10-18 07:19:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/186372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flecksofpoppy/pseuds/flecksofpoppy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My first Rufus/Reno fic. Set a few years before FF7, Rufus is in the process of becoming the cold, calculating character he is in the game. Plays on his relationships with the Turks and Shinra, and how they relate to each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Veteris vestigia flammae

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Reno/Rufus fic, and it came to be because I asked my good partner-in-pronz a_lifestyle to throw out a random pairing and a prompt, because I needed a total break from another fic I was working on that wasn't going anywhere. The pairing was Reno/Rufus and the prompt was "ladder."
> 
> Okay, **CANON UPDATE** : ~~I'm going to say that this is supposed to take place a few years before "Before Crisis,"~~ right around the time Rufus is still developing into the cold, calculating character he is in Final Fantasy VII. I've always assumed that President Shinra, given the really creepy scene in which he watches the sector plate fall and kill a bunch of people while listening to opera music, is a weirdo. I've read all kinds of spins on Rufus's relationship with his father, but the thing that really stuck and makes sense to me is that the Turks would end up being some kind of surrogate family/support system for Rufus (...okay, not exactly "familial" since this fic is about Rufus fucking one of them...but you know what I mean). There's _a lot_ of loyalty issues that happen during Compilation of Final Fantasy 7, and it really fascinates me.
> 
>  ~~Rufus is supposed to be 25 when FF7 starts, right after Before Crisis.~~ **I'm just going to say that Rufus is supposed to be around 20 in this fic; wherever that falls into canonical timeline, there it is.** In this fic, I'd put him at about 20, maybe 21, and he's still figuring himself out and learning how to function with his lot in life. And so...hellooo...this fic was born.
> 
> Oh yes, and just a quick note about the ridiculous title. I know, I know... _Latin?!_ Well, I was trying to think of some other word for memory, or for something along those lines, and when I googled "memory" to see if it gave me any ideas, up popped this phrase. I liked the story behind it and thought it was relevant, although not so much to love than to desire, and having a memory _like_ this later on down the road to reference, etc. It connects to a bunch of topics, at least in my mind.

There were certain parts of his job that Reno loved: guns, explosions, electrocution, a lot of money, and a warm consistent place to sleep. The never-ending supply of booze and cigarettes didn't hurt either, although those two were mostly courtesy of Rude.

There were parts of his job he hated: pointless bodyguard assignments, being stuck in remote parts of the world for long periods of time, and of course, anything having to do directly with the Shinra family.

From day one, since he had played rookie to Tseng and Rude, he always got stuck with the "Rufus Shinra bodyguard" routine. At first it sounded important--he was the President's son, after all--but really, it was a glorified babysitting job.

Rufus was a pain in the ass; he was devious, but too young to use it to any real effect, and he despised his father. Although for that one, Reno couldn't blame him--even from his earliest days as a Turk, it was common knowledge that President Shinra was bottom-of-the-barrel scum who happened to have a lot of money. A bad combination, to be sure, but Reno didn't waste his time getting caught up in the interpersonal politics of the company. It was well out of his control; he left Tseng to deal with that kind of bullshit.

Now here he was, a good number of years later, and he still got stuck with the same job. He didn't bother with the small details anymore, because the assignment was always the same, and it was always boring. All he needed to know was the when, the where, and the "what threats" rundown. The answers this time were: immediately, Junon, and none. Oh well. At least it wasn't in some broken down shit town on another continent. At least in Junon they had bars and human civilization, not that Reno cared too much for "human civilization." But it sure beat squirrels and large, mutated creatures that could only be calmed with a good electric shock to the head.

He also played chauffeur occasionally, although that was the one part of the task that he liked. He was a deft helicopter pilot, and sometimes he liked to drop the craft a little too sharply for anyone else's comfort, particularly when Rufus Shinra was on board, just to see the expression on his face. Although these days, it didn't get much of a reaction; Rufus had grown distant over the years, which was probably better for him in the long run.

The sun glinted off of the helicopter's instrument panel from where he sat on the roof of the Shinra building, waiting for Rufus to emerge from the door that led to the roof stairwell. It was a hell of a view from atop the tallest building in the world on a clear day, but Reno was more concerned with lighting his cigarette against the wind.

He smirked around the cigarette at the Vice President of Shinra General Electric and leveled his gaze at him. "Ready to go, boss?"

"Yes," came the toneless response. Rufus had become more tolerable with age, not wailing for his father's attention all of the time. Typical rich kid antics, all the same to Reno. He'd seen enough above-the-plate brats in his time to know the deal, although it would certainly be interesting to see how this one turned out, since one day he'd probably control the world, and Reno would be working for him. And carrying out his bidding.

Reno snapped on the headset, angling the mic downward and letting the cigarette hang lazily from his mouth. They took off and rapidly ascended above Midgar, and he could see Rufus look at the controls, down at the city, and then back at the controls.

"And keep it at _one_ altitude unless otherwise necessary," Rufus's calm voice withered Reno's joy as quickly as his cigarette burned down to the filter.

Reno found out in short order what Rufus was doing in Junon: signing papers. He had to have a bodyguard to fly him out across a continent to sign some fucking papers--or those were the thoughts that passed through Reno's mind. Not that he was one to complain. They paid him damn well for what he did, and it didn't involve imminent death...but Reno liked the imminent death jobs more.

Anyone with half of a brain that worked for Shinra above the 60th floor also knew that the President liked to keep his son at a distance these days, because he was suspicious of his motives. Whether it was the paranoid delusions of an aging man bent on world domination or if there was something to it was left to be determined, but it also meant Reno got dragged out of Midgar a lot more as Rufus got older.

Reno wasn't actually that much older than Rufus, which often struck him as strange, since when he had started as a Turk, Rufus had been a teenager. A really bratty teenager, full of resentment and vitriol with rage issues.

One of Reno's fondest memories was smacking the shit out of a 17-year-old Rufus, at Tseng's nod, after he had managed to give them the slip. Rufus Shinra exploring the upper plate was the worst idea that anyone had ever had, even if the general public had no idea what he looked like. The only worse thing that could have happened was if he had managed to find his way to the _lower_ sectors, and at the time, all of the Turks knew that was exactly what he was trying for. And not one of them, except maybe Tseng, cared too much whether or not the kid got shot and mugged in some slum; they cared about their jobs and the fact that if anyone ever actually let that happen, they'd be hunted down, drawn and quartered. And knowing President Shinra, possibly fed to orphans.

After they'd hauled him back in, Rufus had what could only be described as a hysterical hissy fit of rage that wouldn't end. At that point he had practically been held hostage in the Turks' office as he threatened and ranted about the wrath of his father and what he would do (none of which was true, of course), and Reno had given him one good punch right in the gut.

It had shut him up for the last 3 years, and it quickly became clear to Rufus on that day that he had grossly underestimated how much leeway the Turks actually had working for his father, and how little his father cared if they beat him senseless, as long as no marks showed and there was a good reason. He also realized that his father probably would have stood by and laughed and said he deserved it. And many years after that, he realized that they had done him a big favor.

Reno had killed a lot of people, but he wasn't a sadist. He didn't get off on kicking a man while he was down; he'd rather just have the man go down in a crackle of singed flesh and electricity and not get up, neat and clean and easy. And he didn't particularly _want_ to waste his time beating Rufus Shinra to a pulp, even though when that punch connected it had felt damn good to shut the kid up. That was also back when he was still a kid; it wasn't a real fight, it was their version of a light smack on the wrist. It was a loud and clear message of: _this isn't getting you anywhere, and you're making our jobs difficult._

Rufus had gotten quieter with age, but Reno could still sense a spark of insubordination and resentment; somewhere deep down that angry kid was still there. And that was dangerous, because it meant that Rufus could still be unpredictable. Quietude honed instinct and perspective; rage only blotted it all out, and if you were born into the Shinra family, you didn't have the luxury of getting angry. Only getting even.

Junon was a bustling little city right on the coast where the Shinra military generally conducted most of its business. It wasn't a bad place to be, and although it was no Midgar, it also wasn't the woods.

Their lodgings were the military compound, the executive suite, where it looked less like a compound and more like a trashy, gaudy hotel that an interior decorator had simply thrown up on in shades of green and purple. Reno suspected Heidegger's guilt in the aesthetic atrocity after someone had commented on it; he was no connoisseur of good taste, but he knew what ugly was. And this was ugly.

Reno secretly hoped that if Rufus ever did become President, his first act would be to remove Heidegger from his post and have him publicly executed. And he would volunteer to be executioner.

It was late when they got there, and all Reno wanted right then was some whiskey and a mattress, to escape the swirling nightmare of purple and green, and to get this assignment over with. _Fucking bodyguard bullshit._

"You need me for anything else, boss?" he asked Rufus, whom he also found to be studying the color scheme with a puzzled, disturbed look.

"No," he said. The unspoken words: _don't fucking leave unless you tell me._ Rufus was too old now to make those statements to out loud; it would just be insubordinate and didn't work, but it was still there given past events, inherent in their exchange.

"Okay," he said, "I guess I'll see you tomorrow. Buzz me on the PHS if anything goes down."

There were plenty of other precautions while they were there as well: motion sensors and cameras, and the fact that they were in a Shinra military base of course. And Reno's cat-like hearing didn't hurt either. In any other circumstances, Reno would have just stood guard at the door, but the one saving grace about Junon was that it wasn't necessary given the lodging options available.

Rufus just nodded and continued to stare at the garish decor. Sometimes the kid was just plain fucking weird, although that wasn't saying much in the context of Shinra, so Reno left it at that and walked down the hallway toward the room he usually claimed. He particularly liked this room because it had a mini-bar, which was bizarre to him, but he never questioned it. It was booze. That was the important part.

He heard Rufus's footsteps pass the door, then another door open to where the sprawling master suite bedroom was, and then a click as it shut. Sometimes in his idle moments, Reno did wonder what it was that Rufus did by himself all of the time--he didn't really have any friends per se. At least the Turks had each other; normal lives were a little out of the question, although Reno was happy to simply have a drinking buddy. "Normal" didn't really apply, and it never had, at least not in Reno's case. He figured it might have to Rude or Tseng at some point, but maybe not; it didn't matter. If he had wanted to be normal, then he could have been; he could have been the chump peddling drugs or his body or cheap weapons or whatever else below the plate. He could have even been like other people in Shinra he saw that had some semblance of a regular life: Reeve, who by his standards, was way too soft to be involved anywhere in a company like Shinra. Too much conscience. Something about him that smacked of fear and regret and remorse. No, this life, for him, was vastly more preferable.

He took off his belt and let it drop with thump to the floor; his weapon of choice was his electromag rod, with which he had become quite skilled over the years, but he traveled with a collection of deadly accoutrements that would have made a weapons dealer in Wall Market blush.

Off came the knife strapped to his arm just above the wrist, the machine pistol tucked into the back of pants, even his fingerless leather gloves, equipped with extra materia slots in addition to his mag rod. He threw them onto the bed and he flexed his fingers, popping the joints one by one, then ran a hand lazily through his hair, adjusted his goggles, and blinked heavily. He knew he was forgetting something.

He gave himself a patdown, then located an extra grenade he had forgotten that he was carrying. He mused on that one for a moment: _that could have been a problem._ Then just shrugged and set it down gingerly on a nearby table.

He wished Rude was there to have some stupid conversation and drink with, someone to comment on his inability to keep track of live grenades, maybe make a crack at Rufus's expense. All he got was the faint whir of an air duct covered by a small stainless steel grate. Yeah, he hated these assignments.

He cracked open one of the mini-bottles of whiskey and took a long, deep draw from it; it burned in the most comforting way possible. It allowed him to take a deep breath; he kicked off one shoe, took another gulp, and then kicked the other one off. And then, just as he finished the first mini-bottle and was considering the next, he heard the sensor go off.

 _Fuck._

Shoes on, at least half his collection of weapons somewhere on his person, electromag rod in hand, and three small bottles of whiskey tucked into his pockets. The weapons were a precaution; the whiskey was for what he already knew he was going to find.

Rufus Shinra. Gone. No doubt of his own free will.

 _Fuck._ A metallic clink as a bottle cap hit the floor. _Fucking shit._ Another bottle empty, another clink as it also hit the floor. He'd save the other two for later.

As he made his way through the intensely vivid and putrid green and purple room, down the hall toward the main bunker, Reno came up with at least 12 ways to cause Rufus Shinra to emit terrible inhuman screams of pain and suffering with only minor marks that wouldn't last for more than a day and could be easily hidden by clothing.

The two Shinra military guards they had passed on the way in took one look at Reno's expression and both shied away. Everyone knew who the Turks were, and usually you only got to see one looking homicidal if you were about to die.

His voice was calm though, belying the look on his face. "Did the Vice President just come through here?" he asked. "There's been a security breach."

Both of them slightly relaxed, and Reno was pretty sure that one of them had been turning blue from holding his breath from the time he saw Reno striding down the hallway to right then.

"He just passed here, sir," the one who didn't look as blue replied.

"Did he say anything?" Reno asked carefully. He didn't mind shooting scared rabbits, especially when he was pissed, but it was the rabbits that held the information he needed. Regardless, his fingers were twitching to spark these morons until they were fried.

The guard who had thought, up until that point, he was being very helpful, hesitated, and then just said, "Uh...no. But we uh...saluted him!" And he proceeded to salute Reno very dutifully.

At that moment, Reno didn't know whether to kill him or pity him. He had more important things to deal with, though. He did flip the switch on his e-mag and watched with some satisfaction as its electric crackle drained the blood from both of their faces. As he exited the bunker, past the fence and finally walked out into the street, his thoughts turned to the problem at hand.

 _Where in the hell would you go now?_

It had been years since Rufus had pulled a stunt like this. It occurred to Reno that maybe Rufus really thought that he wouldn't be followed, although given the fact that he had left out of the blue, late at night and obviously in a hurry, he probably did know. Last time though, he was a curious, angry 17-year-old; now he was something else. What exactly that _was_ , Reno could not be sure. But obviously there was still some unrest clinging to him, like the remnants of an illness he hadn't quite recovered from, even after the respite of fever and chills.

It was raining lightly and as Reno made his way further into the city proper, the streetlamps made small points of light against the dark sidewalks and old cobbled pavement. Junon was a very different city in that they had rain, and sky, and weather patterns. If something dripped on you in Midgar, at least below the plate, you got down on your knees right where you stood and prayed hard that you didn't grow an extra body part the next day.

Reno switched off the e-mag rod and put it underneath his jacket; it was a fine weapon, but rain didn't really do it a lot of good. He ran a hand through his hair again, baffled and frustrated, and looked up into the black inky sky. He could vaguely make out the shapes of storm clouds, no stars, and could hear the ocean a small distance away crashing against the shore. For a moment, it occurred to him that this was quite pleasant. _Pleasant._ Hm. That word had crept up on him. Like the hideous room back at the bunker, Reno was no connoisseur of good taste or fine living, but he at least knew ugly. And he would identify this as the opposite.

 _Fucking Rufus._ He hated being by himself in random places like this, running through some sleepy old city with the silly objective of finding an errant bratty rich kid too stupid to figure out how to function in his own fucked up life. It also got him thinking--being alone, having no mission, no one to talk to, nothing to focus on. He didn't like idle thinking; it was uncomfortable and interruptive to his lifestyle.

"Damn it," he muttered, and started walking slowly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out another small bottle, popped it open, dropped the cap on the ground and killed it in one swallow.

 _I better find him before I run out of whiskey._ The thought crackled in his mind with the same intensity as his e-mag.

Every Turk had his skill set; tracking and fine-tuned investigation was not Reno's.

He found himself walking along a street lined on one side by a retaining wall and some kind of park filled with dark, shadowy trees, and the other with a mix of residential doorways and storefronts. Nothing was open, until he got further in and finally saw one or two bars, as well as more people. He figured the best thing to do was wait for some commotion, because although people hadn't recognized Rufus's face years before, he was definitely more known now.

His plan paid off. Within five minutes, as he walked past one of the more lively bars, a very drunk woman that was standing outside, clothed in a tight red dress and more lipstick than any human face could ever successfully hold, loudly gestured with a drink in her hand, "I'm telling you, I saw him. I saw that Shinra kid go by. Don't look at me like I'm crazy!"

Since Reno spoke the language of drunken slur, he understood what she said, while many of the people surrounding her did, in fact, look at her like she was crazy.

"Hey honey," he sidled up, flipped his hair a little and leaned against the wall next to her. "Did you say you saw the Shinra kid? For real?"

She was too drunk to realize she was talking to a Turk, while everyone else immediately filtered out into the street or went back inside the bar.

"Hey sugar," she leaned in close to Reno, then shifted back. "Whoa, you smell like booze."

Reno just smirked. "Hey, sorry. What can I say? You're my kinda girl," he said, placing a hand carefully and deliberately on her shoulder. He could feel the shiver go right through her body and he knew that he had won her favor.

"So you saw that kid? The Shinra one? I only ask because my sister has the biggest crush on him. She's been trying to get an autograph since she first laid eyes on him. It's sick, how much in love she is with someone she's never met."

"Ohhh," the woman said dreamily. Her mascara had started to run down her face in the rain. "Love? That's so sad... Well, he went that way," she said, pointing to the left in the same direction that Reno had been walking. "Actually," her memory kicked in like a sputtering engine, "I think...he went into that bar. That bar right there across the street," she said, pointing at some establishment a few doors down.

Reno leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks, honey." He pressed a few hundred gil into her hand, "Have a drink on me."

"Yer nice," she replied, and stumbled back into the bar.

 _Yup, that's me. Nice._

His jacket was damp and cold, his shoes were wet, and he had one small bottle (it seemed tinier with every second that ticked by) of whiskey left. If Rufus didn't show up soon, he entertained the notion, however impossible it was, to simply return to Midgar and tell them that the Vice President had jumped into the ocean to meet his doom.

He reached the bar the woman had pointed at and looked up. It had an innocuous name like "The Junon Tavern" or "Junon Grill," or some other creative title. Probably named by the same person who decorated the executive suite.

When he opened the door, it was crowded, and he did up a few buttons on his jacket so it wasn't glaringly obvious he was carrying a small weapons battery on him. His eyes darted furtively around, not wanting Rufus to see him first if he was in fact here.

And then there he was, shock of carefully groomed blond hair, looking pathetic in the corner by himself, with a drink in front of him and his gaze fixed on the table. Rufus Shinra. Potentially the most powerful man in the world right after the President himself, capable of making or breaking the entire city in which he sat with a few carefully placed words. It was the "carefully placed" that he was apparently having trouble with.

He didn't see Reno until the Turk sat down at the table smoothly, pulled a chair out backward and straddled it, looking for all the world as if they were just two ordinary friends out for a night at the bar after a long day of work, looking for a good time.

"Hey," Reno shouted toward the bar. "Whiskey neat, here!"

He rested his elbow on the table and put his head in his hand as if he were about to discuss the latest locker room gossip with Rufus, and gave him a long suffering look.

"Why do you make my life a living hell?" he asked, speaking the same way he had spoken to Rufus when he was 17. The glass thunked down on the table next to him. He paid the waitress and waved her away with a "keep the change," never taking his gaze off of Rufus.

"And seriously, you come to _this_ shithole?" he added.

He didn't know what to expect, but it certainly wasn't silence. Rufus just stared at him, calm, and took a sip of whatever it was he had ordered. Reno eyed it.

 _Red wine. Fucking figures._

He was surprised Rufus even had hard money on him at all. That was another thing his father was a big fan of: not allowing his son to carry any type of live currency. Kept him under his thumb pretty effectively.

"Things aren't like what they were," Rufus finally said. "You work for me."

Oh, now he saw. Rufus thought he finally had the upper hand. Reno had to stop and think carefully for a minute, because maybe he was right. Maybe he was finally in charge, had enough clout to have his old man start thinking that a few well placed punches were embarrassing now that Rufus was old enough to actually be of use, that he wasn't a scrawny teenager anymore.

 _Then again..._

"I know, boss," Reno said, smiling mirthlessly. He turned his chair back around and sat back down, leaning back and balancing on one of the table legs. He finished the drink he ordered in one gulp. "So what do you want me to do? Give me some orders."

"Leave," was the response, now a little less calm, a little less composed. Getting to that place that Reno knew was still there. If "that place" didn't rear its head, if Rufus really was no longer that teenage kid, then Reno would leave. He would leave, and then it was all on Rufus, because Reno wasn't the boss of the boss. And he had a feeling they all knew this was coming...that the team of lethal babysitters would eventually have to learn how to function when the tables were turned.

For him, it was a relief, as it also probably would be for Rude. For Tseng, it was different. In some strange way, Tseng had always been like the father Rufus never had--not a doting one, but one who actually gave a shit about him.

"Tell me why," he said easily, popping open his last small bottle of whiskey. "And I'll leave you to fend for yourself in this little paradise." He took a sip; this time he'd make it last a little longer.

"I don't have to tell you why," came the response, more agitated now. "I'm in charge of you. You're not in charge of me."

Nope, game over.

 _You just lost, kid._

Reno just nodded a little, as if seriously evaluating the statement, finished his last bit of whiskey, and then scooped Rufus up by the back of his jacket and bodily hauled him out of the bar and into the street.

"Let's go," he said, using his superior height and strength to drag Rufus behind him, who was so confounded that he hadn't even tried to fight back.

He dragged him a few doors away until there was an empty wall, which he pushed him into.

"We can do this the easy way," Reno growled, fed up with the entire evening, with Junon, with the rain. "Or we can do it my way. You already know what my way is. Your call, kiddo."

He could feel all of the air go out of Rufus in a whoosh as his body hit the wall, and then he re-composed himself. Reno had to give him credit for that; he'd gotten a lot better at handling himself. Not good enough to be left to his own devices, though. What he failed to understand, what even _Reno_ understood, was that Rufus Shinra would never be just Rufus. He would always be Shinra, and that was it.

"Let go of me, Reno," he replied. The calm demeanor was back, the one that he would need to keep for the rest of his life, and so Reno relented. What he wasn't expecting was for Rufus to actually try to escape, and dart into an alley and disappear.

"Well, I'll be damned," he mumbled to himself. But he had spent enough time drinking in Junon at this point to know that alleys often didn't lead to anywhere but dead ends.

And so there was Rufus, cornered like a scared rabbit, watching a wolf that he didn't believe to have any teeth. In effect, he was right; what he didn't seem to understand was that the wolf would throttle the rabbit to the brink of death if need be.

He flipped on his electromag rod and it crackled to life. Rufus did not look impressed, but Reno could practically feel the heightened sense of awareness in the alley. He was cornered and this was over and he knew it.

"Like I said," Reno stopped about 10 feet away from Rufus, who had his fists clenched but had managed to make his face blank, "we can do this one of two ways."

Rufus took a few steps to the side, knowing that he couldn't exit the way he had come. Then Reno saw the pathetic plan, and for a moment he was impressed that Rufus's pride could last this long.

Before he could even get two rungs up on the ladder, Reno grabbed him from behind, got his arms around his waist and pulled hard. Rufus fell back to the ground and lost his balance, but Reno easily pressed him against the rusty ladder and held him there bodily.

"The bullshit ends here," he growled, letting the e-mag rod spark ominously. "One more time, and I swear to anything that is holy I'll shock your pansy ass until you can't move and take you back slung over my shoulder."

Rufus didn't say anything because he knew it was true, and he knew that no one would protest. Reno made threats like lovers made promises, only all of his were true.

What happened next was possibly the only thing that Reno wouldn't have expected: the fight went out of Rufus's body, he stood there for a moment, wedged between Reno and the rusted ladder that was making fast work of his white jacket, and he shifted his hips back hard. It wasn't a movement designed to throw him off balance; it was something very different.

Reno practically dropped his weapon on the wet ground. " _This_ is your last strategy?"

This time Rufus didn't say anything, but he did turn around, careful to avoid the column of sparking electricity very close to him, and looked Reno straight in the face.

"Shut up," he replied, and pulled their bodies together. The teenage angst was gone, replaced by something...else. Something Reno couldn't quite place, and didn't know the source of.

He manned up in kind. "Oh?" he smirked darkly, "You like this?" He shifted his hips forward, switched his electromag rod off smoothly and hung it back on his belt, and used his other arm to cage in Rufus's body that he pressed hard to his own.

"Is that what you're saying?" He waited for the scramble of limbs, for panic, for the realization to register that yet another ruse to banish him had failed. But instead all he got was Rufus's hot breath suddenly at his ear and the word, "Yes."

"Fine," Reno was going to milk this for all it was worth. This was better than a punch in the stomach, and Rufus didn't know what was in store for him. He deserved it. "Turn around," he said authoritatively.

Rufus did turn around, and Reno waited for him to relent, to give up and call it off. But he didn't; not when Reno pinched at his chest, bit his neck, wriggled his own hips against Rufus's ass. It wasn't quite until he slid his hand down to Rufus's cock and found a hard bulge that he realized this was not a plan. This was...

"You like this," this time it was a statement. For the first time in his life, Reno felt a twinge of something like sympathy for Rufus. The kid...he couldn't keep thinking of him in those terms now that he had just palmed his cock...Rufus had probably never even had this opportunity before. He'd probably be married off to some clueless (female) socialite of his father's choosing, who may or may not survive the ongoing fray of the Shinra family, if she kept quiet and popped out some children. Reno got it now.

"Just...fuck me," Rufus said it decisively, but there were overtones of other things in his voice--embarrassment, anticipation, lust, and defeat.

"Why me?" Reno asked. He didn't like associating fucking and emotions like "defeat." It just made it too...something uncomfortable, like thinking for too long and being alone.

"Why not?" was the response.

"Good answer."

 _You just won...Rufus._

Rufus certainly wasn't hard on the eyes, that was for sure, and Reno had more of a propensity toward dick than not. He didn't even want to know what Tseng would think, and Reno knew his body might end up somewhere undesirable like a Mako reactor or a sewer pipe...in pieces...but at that moment, he suddenly felt like he could give something good to someone else. Something mutually beneficial, but something good. He'd never been in a position to give anything like that to anyone.

"Okay," he finally said.

He still had him pinned against the fire escape ladder and figured that was as good a place as any. No need to go involving beds and other romantic gestures when all the boss wanted was a good hard fuck. He knew it was more than that though; it didn't even have so much to do with him as it did with whatever was going on inside of Rufus's head. But he'd make sure that his first time was good; certainly better than his _own_ first time had been, if it could even be called that. Reno would help him make a good memory. It was probably one of the only good memories he'd ever help to make.

 _Too many thoughts; too little sex._ His mind was good at self-preservation tactics.

He hadn't even moved during their conversation, but Rufus had the rungs of the ladder he was holding onto in a white-knuckled grip; then he turned around again so that they were face to face. Reno let his hand drift more slowly this time, across Rufus's neck, down to his chest, pressed their bodies together again from where Rufus had turned around to face him. He untucked his shirt and let his fingertips drift over the smooth skin, warmer than he would have ever given any member of the Shinra family credit for, and watched in fascination as Rufus's eyes lost that cold glint and melted into something completely different.

The jacket came off, already ruined, thrown onto the ground, and then Reno's jacket and his shirt unbuttoned, and Rufus's hands on his chest and back, curious, experimental. Following ribs, tracing over scars, feeling the surface of a life hard won and finally wondering a little about his former glorified babysitter.

Rufus was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath when he pinched at one of Reno's nipples, and felt heat surge through him. Reno pressed their hips together again, this time more roughly, a deliberate collision that sent feeling rushing through him in a way that he had never felt, not even when he had been so angry all those years ago that he couldn't even see straight. Not even when Reno had beat him within an inch of his life that one time. Funny, now, that those same hands were doing amazing things to him, stroking him through his pants encouragingly, letting him lean and moan like the way he thought women were supposed to against a strong body, willing, there, eager.

"You ever done this before?" came the gravelly question, Reno's voice utterly changed. It sounded like the wolf was hungry.

"Well..." Hesitation. Then: "Not...like this."

"Okay," Reno said, as if some very significant information had just been conferred.

Reno rocked his hips against Rufus and let their cocks rub together. Rufus let out a sound that Reno doubted he'd ever hear again from that same mouth, and reveled in the unexpected rawness, the _life_ , in the moment. It sounded like a cross between something painful and something full of _want_ and need, and when it came out of Rufus, Reno felt his entire body tingle.

He slipped his fingers down the back of Rufus's pants and felt his ass, his fingers on real flesh finally, and then forced their hips into a rhythm together. Rufus had buried his face against Reno's neck and was biting, and each time they swung into each other, getting a little faster with every movement, Rufus bit a little harder until Reno could feel the welt and then the blood that was inevitably there. If Rufus tasted it, he didn't say anything, and he didn't stop.

Rufus was sure that there were going to be permanent marks etched into his back from the fire escape ladder he was still pinned against.

"Here," Reno's hands disappeared and he was not happy about it. "Climb up a little."

Rufus didn't know what to expect, so he did as instructed, ascended two rungs on the ladder so he was still facing Reno but a little more elevated. Without preamble, Reno pressed his face against Rufus's cock through the fabric; he could feel the damp heat of the Turk's mouth, and he shuddered.

"If you can hold yourself up there," Reno said, some amusement in his voice, "it'll be worth it."

Rufus stretched his arms above him and held on for dear life, hands wrapped tightly against the rungs, feet straining to keep him where he was. Reno grabbed one of his legs unexpectedly and hooked it over his shoulder, unzipped his pants, pulled them down around his thighs and then he nearly let go when he felt Reno's mouth, hot and wet, on his cock. He struggled to balance between one leg bent up and over Reno's shoulder, and the rung on which his other foot was still precariously planted, legs forced open and held in place.

"Hold on tight," came Reno's voice around his cock, muffled, and the vibration rang through his hips like the tines on a tuning fork. He was sure he was going to fall, but his grip tightened and he stayed put.

He arched sharply and gasped, and wanted very badly to put a hand on the back of Reno's head, feel that disheveled red hair against his palm that he had always thought was ridiculously vain, wanted to feel everything around them.

He catalogued the feelings: the sea air, the light scent of rain, the faint smell of garbage and alcohol wafting in from the street, cigarette smoke that could have been from Reno's jacket or from a bar, the sounds Reno made as his mouth took Rufus to places he hadn't even known existed. He didn't know right then how often he would later look back on the moment.

Reno let Rufus thrust into his mouth, taking it easily and surpassing his gag reflex, but held the hips in place after a while, and then sucked _hard_ as he felt Rufus getting to the edge. Then he drew away and watched Rufus wantonly thrust into empty air as a look of pure, unadulterated desperation appeared on his face.

"C'mon," he said, "now the real show starts."

Rufus looked a little trepidatious, but he put himself back on the ground and then looked as though he were going to tip over, his cock wet and painfully hard. Reno didn't wait to see if he collapsed, and pulled Rufus against him.

"Turn around," he finally said when Rufus didn't sound like he was going to pass out anymore, "and bend over."

Rufus knew this cue, but he didn't exactly know what every step entailed. So he simply did as Reno said, pants already down, ass already exposed, and gripped the rung of the ladder and bent forward.

Reno's fingers were against his lips. Rufus opened his mouth and sucked for all he was worth; the other man must have thought this was better than just a practical idea, because he slowly worked his fingers in and out of Rufus's mouth, mimicking his own prior actions. Rufus trembled; he felt like his cock was going to explode, and could feel his heart fighting to match the pace at which he was crumbling.

Then he almost did explode when he felt one of Reno's fingers rub at his entrance, and he could feel the rust flaking off in small pieces as he slid his hands to the ends of the rung he was gripping, felt the fragments of metal embed themselves into his palms.

"Careful boss," came Reno's amused voice, "you're gonna get yourself tetanus, and then where would we be?"

As he was talking, he pushed a finger in, and Rufus felt like someone was trying to rip him in half. Then there was a hand on his sorely neglected cock and he was able to ignore the pain for at least a few moments.

Reno knew what he was doing though; he worked his finger in and out, stroking Rufus at the same time, and then added another. At that point Rufus didn't seem to notice as much, although the tension in his body was still there, but he was preoccupied as he followed Reno's hand with his hips.

"C'mon," Reno said softly, not even recognizing the voice as his own.

 _Yer nice._

"You have to relax." He already knew though, that asking Rufus Shinra to relax was like asking Hojo to dedicate his life to humanitarian aid.

"If you don't relax," he added, "this isn't going to happen."

That seemed to garner a more dramatic response; it took a few minutes, but Rufus managed to unwind some of the tension from his body, and finally Reno started to fuck him with his fingers in earnest, searching for the trigger.

The arched back and slight creak of metal as Rufus pulled down hard on the ladder, causing the rusted hinges to squeak, was a good sign. He slowed the movements of his fingers, and waited. When Rufus impatiently pushed his hips backward against Reno, he was confident that this was a good idea. He unzipped his pants and took out his cock.

 _How romantic_ , he thought wryly, _half-clothed alley sex._

He positioned himself, pushed Rufus's legs further apart, spit on his hand and lubed up his cock as best as he could, and then slowly started to push in, taking it gradually. He didn't even want to know what Tseng would do to him if he ripped the sole Shinra heir's ass into tiny pieces.

Rufus's voice cut through the pleasant haze that was settling into his mind as he was almost completely buried in the other man's body, and he started.

"What?" he asked.

Rufus just let out a sound of frustration, but then something self-conscious entered his voice as he repeated, "Can you please just...touch me?"

Reno blinked once in surprise. A few moments passed as he absorbed what Rufus had said, and then...

Yeah. He could do that. He wasn't big on the whole touchy-feely cuddle time thing, although Reno was pretty sure that wasn't what Rufus meant. He just meant "touching" in the first place...touching at all.

Reno slowly pulled out of him and Rufus turned to give him an agitated look, but then he motioned for him to let go of his death grip on the ladder.

He sat down on top of their discarded clothing, feeling around for broken glass or other unsavory alley-like things on the ground. Finding none, he settled down and leaned back on his hands to look at Rufus.

"Straddle me and sit down," he said. Rufus looked a little confused, but did as instructed. He shucked off his pants (Reno was glad they had picked one of the darker streets on which to have their confrontation) and then straddled Reno's lap, seemed to pick up on the mechanics of this new position, then tentatively started to lower himself onto Reno's cock. He didn't go all the way, but let Reno guide his hips, set the pace, and push inside him again, until then he was sitting on the other man's lap with Reno's cock buried completely inside of his body.

"Ugh," Reno's voice was breathy and foreign, "you're so tight." _Never thought this would be so fucking...good._ Then, "You okay?"

"Yeah," he replied shakily, and for the first time, he looked unsure of himself, something new in his demeanor.

Reno leaned forward and shifted his hips experimentally; this was the best thing he had actually felt in a long time, alive and hyper-responsive. Rufus gasped and then a sound made its way unbidden from his throat, grew louder, until he could no longer control it and he was panting and letting out small constrained moans every time Reno pushed forward.

Honoring his prior request, he hugged Rufus to his chest and thrust up into him hard, angling for that same spot he had discovered before; he apparently hit it because Rufus's legs became vices around his waist and his body clenched.

He leaned back and rocked Rufus with him, and his cock went deep and Rufus cried out in earnest. Rufus, always a quick learner, managed to pick himself up slightly and then drop back down, until Reno barely had to move at all, just watch as the Vice President of Shinra rode his cock into oblivion. Uncontrolled, unrepressed, completely open, wanting and giving at the same time.

 _Yeah, a good memory._

Reno grasped Rufus's cock finally and started to stroke; it took less than a minute for Rufus to cease his motion and come. And he came hard, doubling over as far as he could with his chest pressed to Reno's, then his face pressed against a shoulder as he tried in vain to catch his breath. He could feel an intense pulse inside of him at the same time, and then something hot.

Reno didn't move immediately, just let Rufus sit there against him for a minute, let a little bit of that "tender touching" bullshit he had always despised sneak in. He knew this wasn't about him specifically; it was about bodies, and about people touching, and about sex. And Reno was more than happy to give it to him.

He could feel Rufus's self-preservation instincts kicking back in, trying to distance himself from the situation, from Reno. So offering what little he could in the way of comfort, he pressed Rufus's face back against his shoulder, feeling the damp forehead, the sweat-soaked hair plastered against his face, the very human sound of erratic breaths trying to right themselves.

"It's okay," he said, "just relax. Just...sit down for a minute, boss." He grinned despite himself. And then he felt Rufus's lips quirk, just the slightest bit, against his skin.


End file.
